


Things Like That Drive Me Out of My Mind

by Zagzagael



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teensiest Fury Road ficlet because this film has wrapped itself around my cerebral cortex and is squeezing hard.</p><p>Title taken, of course, from Lou Reed's "Satellite of Love".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Like That Drive Me Out of My Mind

He was a motherless child. As were they all. And each one of them longed to drink great gulping swallows of mother's milk.

He knew about the brides, had seen glimpses, sloping shoulders, jutting hipbones, long thighs, and elegantly-fingered hands. All healthy and shining in their skins. Future mothers of gods, it was whispered but he wasn’t entirely clear on the concept of motherhood, childbirth, even conception. He knew the brides were of the highest value, but was not able to bring himself to ask why. Why were they valued?

He had intuited that it was the dead earth that birthed him, from the red cave he had been born, had risen, up and out of the bone-cleaning sand, raising locked fingers above his head, hands held high in the glory of the light of the father. So, it followed that the sun was the father almighty. But no one had ever told him that the Moon was the Sun’s grey bride. That he had come to on his own.

The heavenly bodies he carried inside his own body. The sun, the moon, the stars, all tucked away inside. They were his heart and lungs and brain. At those times when he would wake from nightmares, forbidden to speak of, he would lullaby himself back to restless slumber imagining his head full of sunlight, his heart the glowing moon in all her shifting shapes, and his lungs the vaulted pattern of stars. The singular moving stars that seemed so hopeful to him. 

He hadn’t known, until the night the Vuvalini told them, that those were _satellites_. Thus named, but he could not say what a satellite was. A star on the fury road, running free across the black highway of sky, he decided. Shiny and chrome, outrunning the sun.

A lovely thought.


End file.
